


And So He Waited

by graceverse



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, just a tad bit of silliness, just jon being crazy stupid jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceverse/pseuds/graceverse
Summary: Jon angrily stormed off from another council, where he had sat as an equal to the Dragon Queen but was so effectively ignored by Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North. No matter how hard he had stared at her, willing her too look at him, she remained regally stoic, not once acknowledging his presence. When the meeting was over, she stood up, statuesque and queenly in her dark furs, her pale solemn face sweeping across the room, nodding at Northern Lords before quietly walking away, sparing not even the slightest, smallest glance at his direction.This has to end.This will end.Jon wasn’t going to let Sansa ignore him for another minute. He cannot endure it. Not anymore.





	And So He Waited

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, just Jon being thoroughly ignored by Sansa. Because he deserved it. And because I want an silly-angry-jealous kitten Jon. So here you go.

Jon angrily stormed off from another council, where he had sat as an equal to the Dragon Queen but was so effectively ignored by Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North. No matter how hard he had stared at her, willing her too look at him, she remained regally stoic, not once acknowledging his presence. When the meeting was over, she stood up, statuesque and queenly in her dark furs, her pale solemn face sweeping across the room, nodding at Northern Lords before quietly walking away, sparing not even the slightest, smallest glance at his direction.  

This has to end. 

This **_will_ ** end. Jon wasn’t going to let Sansa ignore him for another minute. He cannot endure it. Not anymore.

He strode purposely towards Sansa’s chamber. She will not be back there until close to midnight when her tasks as Warden of the North has finally ended. There will be no bloody guards on her door at this time. He will kick that door down and patiently wait for her there. She has dodged his requests to see her. Every meeting he had set, she had respectfully declined through Brienne and Pod. The Lady Sansa was busy with so many things, whatever Lord Snow wishes to tell her, he could course through Brienne or Pod or Arya or Bran. 

Whatever Jon wanted to tell her was something he didn't want to tell Brienne or Pod and most especially not Arya nor Bran. Mostly because it involved a thousand apologies and supplications for understanding. He had done what he felt was needed to be done. Trying to convince Dany to aide the North in defending the realm against the White Walkers was taking so much time and effort. Dany was too torn between saving and conquering and Jon was running out of time.

He did what he had to do to ensure the safety of Sansa's beloved North. He had to give it away to give it a chance to survive. He understood exactly what he was doing, knew of the consequences and was ready to face them. What he had not expected was how he would feel having to relinquish his blossoming relationship with Sansa. Whatever it was blossoming into - something less than siblings, but more than friendship...almost a partnership. He didn't think he would feel so utterly bereft now that Sansa would not even  _look_ at him. 

Jon could understand Sansa being busy. She had a lot of responsibilities now that the Northern Lords have declared her their true Warden. She was the eldest daughter of Ned Stark, who can still inspire fierce northern loyalty, one that had even surprised Jon himself. After allowing the Boltons to take control of the North, the Northern Lords seemed eager to correct their mistake.

They bravely faced Daenerys, telling her that while they appreciated her coming to their help with her dragons --- and they _**will** _ take that into account when she asks for their support in taking King's Landing --- they absolutely refused to let the title Warden of the North stay with a bastard and now, a traitor. They have made him their King and he had given their freedom away without even giving them the courtesy of consulting them. The Northern Lords were no fool. They understood that they needed dragon fire to fight the Army of the Dead. But should it be on the expense of their freedom? Their children's freedom? What more would the Dragon Queen demand of them once she has taken over Kings Landing? Was that not something that they ought to have been told about before hand? Did they not deserve to know the plans of their chosen King? Were they supposed to hail him as their hero as he marched back into Winterfell bringing with him a new Queen? A foreign Queen.

Was that not a form of betrayal of their trust? 

It was only fair that they refused to be under his protection.

The final word came from Lady Mormont, her voice proud and unwavering. "Jon Snow had bent the knee, aye, but not The North. The North _remembers_. We answer only to Ned Stark's eldest daughter, his rightful heir, Sansa Stark, The Lady of Winterfell. Our True Warden of the North."

Arya and Bran were with the Northern Lords. They had not said anything but their presence was enough to show their support and it pained Jon to be standing on the other side, away from them. This was not how he had wanted to spend his time with them now that they have returned. He wished he could cross the room and stand beside them, too. 

_Yes! Yes, make Sansa Warden of The North. Make her Queen. She deserves it. These are her people, she knows them, she loves them. She will be a good Queen. I believe in her. I trust her._

Instead, he remained silent, fist clenched, trapped between The Dragon Queen and her Hand. He felt Arya's stare and he had given her a look, nodding quickly at her and Bran, letting them know, without words, that this was what he wanted too. That he will gladly step down for Sansa. And however long they have been apart, years could not break the bond their shared. Arya understood. She gave him the quickest, sweetest smile, the corner of her lips curling up. It was so familiar, Jon could feel his heart swelling with love inside his chest. Bran merely nodded back in acknowledgement. 

Something had happened to his dear Bran and now he seemed only a shell of the old Bran who would laughingly run around Winterfell, mischievous and playful. It brought a different ache inside Jon's heart and he wanted to hurry after them when they had left with The Northern Lords, leaving Dany and Tyrion to discuss their options. Jon wished there was a way to distance himself from Dany, but it was impossible. She looked at him with obvious longing, it was impossible to escape her. Jon was very careful not to offen her or to make her change her mind. It would be so easy for her to call upon her dragons and leave their cause. Or worst, turn against The North and how then could they fight off two dragons? Winterfell would burn for days, like Highgarden had. Dany was already put off by The Northern Lords insisting on their independence and exercising their right to choose their leaders. Jon had to remind Dany that he had warned her about Northern Lords and have spoken the truth about their loyalty. He had not given her any false hopes when he had declared her as his Queen. 

Jon listened with growing trepidation as Dany and Tyrion argued; Dany growing angrier by the minute and Tyrion trying this best to appease her.

To say no, Tyrion was telling Dany, was tantamount to squandering away the only possible ally they have left. They cannot take the Seven Kingdoms without a single support of a great family and the only great family that remained in Westeros was the Starks.

"Lannisters, Baratheons, Tullys, Freys, Martels, Tyrells, Greyjoys: they have all been decimated, have either died or been killed during the war, or had waged wars against each other. The Starks still have their winter children. They have all come back from the dead, one way or another, stronger than ever and now their banners are raised and proudly flying all over the North."  

The Starks, who not only have the support of the entire Vale and had endured in the wars, but who will also end up being the first line of defense against the Night Army. The Seven Kingdom will know the sacrifice the North was willing to make to keep the dead army from heading South. The Seven Kingdom will also know what her part will be in all this. To force the North to bend their knee and to punish them for it if they do not, is not going to make the people of the Kingdom love her. But to fight _with_ them, to join in their cause to protect the realm, it would make the Targaryen family name great again. She will be their savior! The people will clamor for her, support her, love her! 

Tryion always knew what to say to Dany, how to say it. Tyrion knew that this was what Dany had always wanted, to become the savior of the realm she wanted to conquer. It used to always work, but Dany's pride had been wounded, she had not expected a Northern mutiny on the day of her arrival. Exasperated, Tyrion pointed towards him, "he does not mind. Why are we fighting over a title that he doesn't even want?!"

Dany turned her eyes towards him and Jon wanted to scream at them both to shut up. He took a deep breath and tried to reason with Dany. "Your Grace," he started in a voice that was strangely calm, "Sansa is, was and will always be a true legitimate heir of Ned Stark. We are just wasting precious time that we could be using to prepare for the battle coming our way. Titles mean nothing to me. Titles mean nothing to the army of the dead, already on it's way, marching towards Winterfell." Jon was careful not to mention the dragon wight that the Night King had claimed as his. There will be time to discuss that, but not now.  

In the end, Dany had to concede. There was no choice but to accept. And so Sansa Stark become the Warden of The North (whispers of Queen in The North filled Winterfell, and Dany had silently bristled at this). No longer Lord of Winterfell, no longer the Warden of The North, Jon Snow was just the man who led and bravely fought in the Battle of The Bastards (he was still grudgingly respected for that at least). He was back to being just Jon Snow. Bastard. Traitor. And he didn't care. Titles were silly things that silly people cared about. He wanted to get the preparations done, he wanted to defeat the Night King. That was all that he wanted. 

That and for Sansa to forgive him.

Jon knew that he had betrayed her in the worst possible way but he did not have any opportunity to warn her in advance of his plans. He knew his letters were being read by Varys and Tyrion. He may not be as well adept as Sansa in politics, but he was no fool. Not when it was the lives of his people, of his family that were on the line. 

He did what he had to do. 

Or at least that was what he kept telling himself. Sansa would have to hear him out and judge him for it, but he needed her to know that he did it for the North. He did it for Arya and Bran. He did it for her. 

* * *

Sansa flourished as a leader. She wasn't a warrior, did not have the skills to fight off enemies, but she knew how to order the right people to get things done. She does it by not directly demanding anything, but by planting little seeds of notions into men's heads and making it seem that they had thought of such brilliant strategies.

The Lords were pleased with themselves and Sansa, in a matter of weeks, have been able to effectively segregate the myriad of groups that was now surrounding Winterfell, minimizing the outbreak of fights between Free Folks and Dothraki. She also doubled their grains, receiving some supplies from the Vale, had managed to collect pelts that the womenfolk were now hastily turning into cloaks for the under prepared Dothraki and Unsullied Army.

She even managed to get the dragons away from Winterfell without having once ask or request it from Dany. 

Jon had been present that night when Sansa had innocently asked the Lords of the Vale stationed in Winterfell if it would be wiser for the dragons to fly past Winterfell and hunt further north, perhaps even help out in getting rid of bear wights that were apparently being spotted beyond the wall? The Vale Lords all murmured and nodded their heads and then, deciding as group, flocked to Tyrion and The Dragon Queen the following day. They demanded that the fiery monsters be banished away from Winterfell and hunt farther along, where they will not be able to eat the last few remaining games in the forest. And would it not be possible for the dragons to already help out in getting rid of those horrible animal wights that were descending upon them?

The Dragon Queen had to concede yet again, because, of course, that made sense.

Jon was beyond impressed and he had wanted to let Sansa know how proud he was of her, how he had always known that she would make such a good ruler but he couldn't because another thing Sansa was certainly good at, aside from leading and taking care of their people, was pretending that he didn’t exist.

She was exceptionally good at this, sometimes Jon wondered about his own existence. But no, he was very present, as he felt all the angry stares the Northern Lords would occasionally throw at him, the pitying glances from Tyrion, Dany’s warm hand near his and Arya’s fierce hugs. Even Bran’s empty stare seemed to acknowledge his presence. 

But Sansa…Sansa knew exactly how to tweak him and make him angry and miserable and hopeful and pitiful all at the same without so much as glancing at him.

Sansa had spoken to everyone one. Every _fucking_ one. Even Dany. And however few instances that they had to converse, Jon had been beyond anxious, always looking for signs that Dany had taken offense. She never seemed to, at least not outright, even though most of the time Sansa had to ask the harder questions (how are we going to feed our armies? The dragons? Will you burn us if we refuse to fight your war against Cersei?) Dany didn’t always have an answer that quite satisfied Sansa and the Northern men, himself included. It frustrated them all, but Sansa would always calmly assure them that uncertainties should be expected. None of them had experienced anything such as this, it was unfair to demand answers right away.

It was such a stressful situation, to say the least. 

And Jon wanted nothing more than to return to the old days when it was just him and Sansa trying to manage the North, when they would share their daily burdens and triumphs, when they exchanged complaints and offered solutions. He wished he could go back to those nights when he could freely go to her chambers and talk for hours and hours and wait until Sansa would fall asleep. He missed it. He missed her. 

It was ridiculous. He saw her every day and yet he missed her with an almost painful longing that didn't even come close when he had been in Dragonstone and he had desperately wanted to come home to her. 

Sansa had long morning walks with Tyrion discussing gods know what. Tyrion never told him, even though Jon made the mistake of asking, not once, but every day, in all sorts of way: directly, indirectly, threateningly, not so threateningly. He came so very close to begging yesterday, one of the reasons why he had finally decided that he’s had enough. 

Sansa also had time to not only accept Jaime Fucking Lannister as her sworn sword, but as a confidant as well. Every time he chanced upon them Jaime was always whispering such wonderfully amusing things that made Sansa giggle.  _Giggle_! He’d never heard her giggle before. Jon, stomach churning, would slowly back away, unable to endure her completely and utterly ignoring him in front of the Kingslayer.

She had plenty of time to check up on Tormund, still on the mend after the dragon wight had brought down the wall at Eastwatch. They had awkwardly found themselves inside Tormund’s room one morning and Tormund, faithless friend that he is, had then proceeded to ignore  _him_! Jon was forced to mumble his way out of Tormund’s door but not before he heard his friend’s great roaring laugh, followed by Tormund’s softly plead, “when will you ever put him out of his misery, eh Red?”

 _Red_. Tormund now has a nickname for Sansa. When did that fucking happened?

Unprovoked, Davos told him one night that Sansa would walk around the section of Winterfell where the knights of the Vale had camped. Se’d greet them, smiling sweetly, kindly patting them on the arms, briefly holding their hands, thanking them for their continued support, especially now that Littlefinger was gone (the second best thing that had happened while he was away!) The Vale Knights loved her, urged her to return to the impregnable Vale where it would be safer for her, where they can properly protect her. Jon had mightily glared at those Vale Knights. They had _not_ properlyprotected her from Baelish when she had been in The Eyrie. They seemed to have conveniently forgotten all about that. 

And don’t even get him started with Sandor Bloody Fucking Clegane. If he wasn’t trying to teach Arya cheap fighting tricks, he’d be shadowing Sansa, always calling her Little Bird. Jon had once chanced upon them watching Brienne train Pod and there was The Hound, standing between Arya and Sansa, his hand hovering ever so near at the small of Sansa's back that the ends of her hair would brush against Clegane’s fist. Jon couldn’t help it. He angrily strode over to them and darkly muttered a threat. 

The Hound merely looked down at him, his un-burnt eyebrow rising, “Would I like to hear your blade sing, is that what you just said?” He asked before laughing uproariously. “Aye. Let’s hear it sing then, Lord Snow.”

Brienne had to physically restrain him from shaving off what little hair remained on top of Sandor’s head. Didn’t help that Sansa had one hand clutching Clegane’s arm in an effort to stop him from making the bastard kneeler eat Winterfell dirt. She looked slightly off put by having to deal with squabbling adults and had said as much. 

“Keep your hands off my sister, then!” Jon all but growled. 

Which made Clegane laugh even more. “Your bloody fucking arse of a half brother needs to get his head kicked in!” This was said over Sansa’s own indignant refusal to be treated like a child, followed by the coldly stated, “he wasn’t even touching me!” 

Aye, that was true. But he was  _almost_ touching her and that made all the difference in the world. Thankfully, Jon hadn’t been able to say this out loud because Arya rolled her eyes and proceeded to drag him away, leaving Sansa with Clegane. It was hopeless, even Arya trusted the Hound. 

Sometimes Jon wondered if he was still dead and this was actually  _hell_.  

Theon Greyjoy, who was miles away from them, couldn’t stop sending bloody ravens to Sansa and Jon was forced watch with a knot in his stomach as Sansa, pleased with receiving a letter with the Kraken seal, would promptly head to her solar and write her replies. 

Jon had spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to imagine what they could be writing about. 

 _My Dearest Sansa,_ _I_ _miss you terribly. The sea is still salty over here at Pyke Island. I taste it every day so I can report something of consequence to you. Any change there in the North, perhaps?_   _My sister thinks you are just wonderful for sending us some grains. I tell her every day about your beautiful copper hair, like autumn leaves and she can’t wait to finally meet you. I shall send you boat loads of sea weed. You just boil ‘em and they’re good enough to eat._

He’d like to write to Theon and tell him to quit tiring out the ravens, the bloody idiot.

Sansa also made sure that she met some of the Dothraki warriors stationed in the hallway leading to Dany’s room (Robb’s former room), Brienne anxiously standing near her as one of the warriors dared to touch the ends of her hair. They’d never seen such redness in one's hair before. It seemed the horse lords had been  _dying_ to feel those fire-red strands, if it would be as warm as it looks. Jon had almost choked to death when this information was relayed upon him during dinner by an amused Lannister, the Lannister brother he was loathe to talk to and avoided at all cost. Why Jaime had to seek him out to torture him with more new information about Sansa winning the hearts of everyone was beyond him. He already knew Sansa was capable of that. No need to be so constantly reminded.

One day, Jon heard that she had bravely talked to Grey Worm _and_ Jorah Mormont, who would now briefly acknowledge Sansa’s presence with the slightest of nods.

After their evening meals, Sansa even had time to walk Ghost around the castle grounds. Ghost, the traitorous beast would always slink away from him as soon as Sansa stood up from her table. It was clearly a well-established routine between the two of them, one he wasn’t allowed to intrude upon, as made clear by Ghost stopping mid-stride towards Sansa when he too had stood up. Ghost turned to face him, sat down and tilted his head as though asking, ‘and where do you think  _you’re_ going?’ 

And after visiting every living soul in Winterfell, late at night, before Sansa retires to her chamber, she would also make time for the dead. Visiting the crypts for an hour or two, making sure that Brienne, Jaime, Pod and Ghost were guarding the entrance, so that she would not be disturbed. 

She has time for everyone all except for the kneeler bastard traitor of the North.

It was as though, to her, he had died in Dragonstone and had never come back. As though he had abandoned her, when everything that he had done was to keep her safe. She knows this but refuses to accept this. 

Well, Jon was done being ignored. He will show her exactly why he would do everything for her.

And so he waited.


End file.
